


La Petite Mort

by Spiderlily_Writes



Series: Bernadetta gets spoiled [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anxiety, Bernadetta von Varley Needs a Hug, F/M, First Time, Kidnapping, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Power Play, Secret Relationship, Sort Of, Threesome - F/M/M, Trans Bernadetta von Varley, Voyeurism mention, sex-as-apology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25882093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiderlily_Writes/pseuds/Spiderlily_Writes
Summary: Bernadetta is afraid Hubert and Ferdinand will resort to desperate measures to keep her quiet. Hubert, ever the shrewd manipulator, knows that you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.
Relationships: Bernadetta von Varley/Hubert von Vestra, Ferdinand von Aegir/Bernadetta von Varley, Ferdinand von Aegir/Bernadetta von Varley/Hubert von Vestra, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Series: Bernadetta gets spoiled [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1878148
Comments: 24
Kudos: 109





	1. L'enlèvement

**Author's Note:**

> "La Petite Mort", or "the little death," is an old French term which refers to the weakening of consciousness post-orgasm. This is the second part of a series, based on a piece I did for FE3H Wank Week.

Bernadetta’s hungry.

She’s hungry often, come to think of it, but it’s difficult to do much about it during the day. She’s only been coming out of her room at odd hours for the last week or so, having convinced her friends that she’s feeling too ill to come to war councils. While they all seem to think it’s a little strange, they’re used to strangeness from her, and so they seem to have let it slide in the interest of not scaring her away entirely. She gets food early in the morning before anyone wakes up, and grabs some leftovers late at night after they’ve all gone to sleep, and that’s been mostly serviceable.

So far, it’s been seven full days since she spied on Hubert and Ferdinand in the sauna and got caught going so. She knows that either of the men could break into her room, if they want to exact their horrible vengeance on her, but she isn’t about to walk into their arms. No, if they want revenge, Bernie’s going to make them work for it.

It’s about time for her nighttime food run, and so she steels herself for the dash from her room to the dining hall. She talks herself into it, psychs herself up, jogs in place for a moment to warm up. Bernadetta’s wearing her lucky pajama pants, and has her luckiest stuffed armored bear under one arm. She knows it’s childish, but it makes her feel better, and she can use every bit of luck she can get.

_ You can do this, Bernie, you’ve made it every night so far, _ she tells herself.  _ You can do it this time too. Hubert and Ferdinand probably think you’re sick, just like everyone else.  _ She nudges her bedroom door open and sticks her head out, swivelling both ways to check for observers. Nothing. Good.

Bernadetta counts to three, and takes off in a dead sprint toward the dining hall.

She makes it two steps before a hand darts out from the shadows on the wall beside her and snatches her by the collar. Bernadetta screams, but only for a second before a second hand clamps over her mouth.

Oh no. This is it. This is where she dies. She swings her fist feebly behind her, trying to hit her assailant. 

The hand on the neck of her shirt drops down and catches hers by the wrist, then moves aside to pluck the other from the air, bringing both together expertly. She’s immobilized before she realizes what’s happening, and some distant part of Bernadetta is amazed at the ease with which this person is murdering her.

She feels a surprisingly soft cord get wound around her wrists and secured tightly. No matter how hard she pulls, she can’t break free, and she whines into the hand on her lips.

“Hold still, Bernadetta,” Hubert says in a harsh whisper behind her. “This is going to be significantly easier for both of us if you just relax, and we wouldn’t want you getting  _ hurt _ , now, would we?”

Bernadetta gives a choked little sob. Of course it would be Hubert. Of course. Her heart’s beating out of her chest, and the second his hand leaves her mouth, she prepares to cry for help. It’s no use though, as she feels a piece of cloth get shoved in between her teeth, and it’s secured in place by another. Her hands are thoroughly bound, and she’s gagged enough to muffle her voice, and to top it all off, Hubert lifts her up and tosses her over his shoulder, as though she’s a sack of potatoes.

_ He’s surprisingly strong _ , she thinks to herself. Perhaps an odd thing to think about someone who’s come to kill her, but she’s hardly in control at the moment.

In the shuffle, she’s dropped her bear, and though it’s the least of her worries, she yelps as soon as she feels its absence. Hubert seems to notice, and the toy hits him on the foot. He sighs, squats down, and picks it up with his free hand. Of course he would. He’s removing the evidence. A clever murderer, indeed.

She goes limp on his shoulder as he begins to walk, knowing there’s no way out. Bernadetta wonders how he’ll do it. Magic perhaps? Maybe he’ll take her out into the woods and set her ablaze. Perhaps he’ll toss her in a well and claim she fell in. Maybe he’ll-

Oh. 

He stops at Ferdinand’s room and nudges the door open with his foot. It’s not even latched. That makes sense, surely Ferdinand wants to see the deed is done, so he can know that their secret is safe. She groans hopelessly as Hubert carries her inside, being careful not to bump her head on the doorframe. A meticulous  _ and _ considerate murderer.

“Hubert! What in heaven’s name are you doing?” demands a horrified sounding Ferdinand after the door closes behind them. She’s facing backward, so she can’t see his face. That’ll probably make it easier for them to go through with their dark deed. “Put her down!”

To her surprise, Hubert obeys, taking a few steps forward and laying her on Ferdinand’s bed. It’s quite large, she notices. Very plush, too. But she supposes Ferdinand is a man with very particular tastes. She sees him sitting at his desk, watching her and Hubert, mouth agape. “Is- is she  _ bound and gagged _ ?”

The men are both in nightclothes of their own, Hubert in a very fine looking black robe, one that’s surprisingly fuzzy for such a scary man, and Ferdinand in a simple shirt and soft trousers, not entirely unlike Bernadetta’s. She’s confused. Those don’t  _ seem _ like good outfits for committing murder in. 

“I simply thought it would be the easiest way to ensure that she does not wake anyone. The bindings were to keep her from squirming out of my grip and running away,” Hubert explains smoothly. “We’ve been trying to get her to come out of her room for a week, Ferdinand, so I took initiative,” 

Ferdinand groans in exasperation, reaching into the drawer of his desk and pulling out a knife. Bernadetta yells into her gag, hoping against hope that someone might hear her through it and come to her rescue. She knows it’s futile, but she tries anyways, wriggling away from Ferdinand as he approaches. She never took him for the cold-blooded killer type, but she supposes tonight is just  _ full _ of surprises.

He grunts, putting a hand on her back to hold her still, before reaching down and cutting the ropes off her wrists. “I told you, Hubert,” he says, “you can’t just  _ do  _ that to pe-”

Bernadetta interrupts him and springs into action, rolling away and ripping the gag off her head, then putting her back to the wall so that nobody can sneak up on her. She doesn’t have a weapon, but she sees her stuffed bear sitting on the bed near where Hubert had dropped her, and she picks it up. Hauling back her arm, as though preparing to throw it, she looks at the two men. Ferdinand is still hunched over by the bed, where he had been when he cut her bindings. Hubert is standing over him, arms crossed, looking down at Bernadetta with an unreadable expression.

She enacts her plan.

“Don’t kill me, please!” she begs, tears welling in her eyes. “I didn’t see anything, I promise, and if I did, I won’t tell anyone, and even if I did, they wouldn’t believe me! I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have been spying, but I don’t think it’s something I really deserve to  _ die _ for! I won’t tell anyone about tonight so  _ please _ just let me go!”

Hubert and Ferdinand blink at her, motionless. She looks between them, trying to seem as menacing as she can with her stuffed bear. There’s a silence that falls over the room, and it seems as though neither of them know how to react to her outburst. As the seconds tick by, audible from the small clock on Ferdinand’s desk, she begins to feel silly. 

Ferdinand looks positively incredulous. “Kill...you?” he asks, sounding genuinely puzzled. “Why on earth would I want to  _ kill _ you?”

She lowers her plush weapon slightly. “B-because I saw you in the sauna. You want to kill me to keep me quiet, so I can’t tell anyone that the two of you are...are…”

“Lovers?” Hubert adds, helpfully.

“Yes! Lovers!” Bernadetta exclaims. Comprehension finally seems to dawn on Ferdinand’s face. Hubert, for his part, looks as though he understood from the start, and he’s been waiting for his partner to catch on. She sniffles and wipes away the tears that have begun to run down her cheeks “But I p-promise, you don’t have to kill me. I won’t tell anyone!”

Ferdinand suddenly looks stricken. He sits down on the bed next to Bernadetta and lays a gentle hand on her thigh. She fights the urge to scoot away. “Bernadetta, I would never dream of it. You’re my friend, and a dear one at that. Regardless of what you may or may not have seen. If I wanted you to keep what you saw to yourself, I know I could just ask!” 

His hand feels nice, where it is. She thinks about what she saw, again. She considers listening to him cry out for Hubert, thinks about how pretty he was when he-  _ No _ , she reminds herself.  _ Bernie, focus. _

“You promise?” she asks, finally feeling just a little bit safer. The stuffed bear comes down the rest of the way, and she rests him on the bed.

“Of  _ course  _ I promise. I don’t have any intentions of hurting you, and neither does Hubert. We never did. We’ve just been trying to talk to you for the last week or so, about what you saw, and you’ve been remarkably hard to track down. I think Hubert just got a little frustrated,” Ferdinand replies, with a soft smile. “Isn’t that right, Hubert?” He looks up at the other man, who is still standing imperiously above them.

Hubert hesitates before answering, as though carefully choosing his words. “I was not frustrated, I simply chose the most efficient method for getting you to sit down with us, as Ferdinand’s more casual approaches have failed.”

“And?” Ferdinand asks, expectantly, in the tone of a chastising parent. 

Rolling his eyes, and heaving a great, heavy sigh, Hubert adds, “And you have my sincerest apologies for frightening you.”

“See?” says Ferdinand, patting her leg. It makes her shiver, and she feels herself growing all tingly at his touch. “Nobody was going to hurt you, we just wanted to talk. And yes, we would both appreciate it if you kept what you saw to yourself, and let us make our relationship known on our own terms.”

“Of course,” Bernadetta confirms. “I don’t want you guys to feel upset or uncomfortable or anything.” She looks up at Hubert, who’s watching her curiously. “Do I have something on my face?” 

He scratches his chin, thoughtful. “Not as such, no. But your breathing has grown shallow, and you’re somewhat more flush than you were when I brought you in. Curious, given that you felt threatened then, and you seem to feel less so now.”

Bernie swallows hard, and tries very hard to think unsexy thoughts. It’s difficult, with Ferdinand’s hand on her thigh, and Hubert looking through her as though he’s reading a manuscript; she cannot help but feel laid bare before them both. She thinks about Hubert tying her up and gagging her, his roughness contrasted against Ferdinand’s kindness. She thinks about the sauna, again, about how commanding and domineering Hubert was. Bernadetta quickly places her hands in her lap, just in case.

“Oh, really? Yeah, that’s weird, can’t imagine why!” She insists, laughing nervously. “I think I had probably better go now, need to get to bed, I’m  _ really _ tired.” Bernadetta starts to get up, but Ferdinand’s hand presses down just a little harder, keeping her in place. He looks at her suspiciously, cocking an eyebrow.

“Bernadetta, is there something you’re not telling us?” he asks, and while his tone is still kind, it’s also firm, and she restrains the urge to curl up into a little ball and die. She thinks about lying, considers whether or not she could even get away with it. Bernadetta knows she’s a  _ horrible _ liar, and Hubert can discern falsehoods from even the sneakiest of individuals. So as much as it galls her, she decides to come clean.

“I...well...it’s just…” she begins, then takes a deep breath to steady herself. Her eyes are fixed on the door across the room, on her escape route, rather than on either of the men. “When I saw you two in the sauna, which I’m still really sorry for, I was really jealous of what you were doing, and you’re both just very handsome, and I...I may have maybe, just a little bit, touched...myself,” she finishes weakly, trailing off and closing her eyes. 

She doesn’t mention that the two of them have been the subjects of many a masturbatory fantasy over the last couple of days. She’s shaking, she knows she is, and she also knows her face has to be beet-red. “And Ferdinand’s hand on my leg is uh...well...I’ve never been... _ with _ ...anyone before. It’s a little distracting, and I was going to go back to my room and...take care of it.”

Bernadetta squirms, and there’s another heavy, pregnant silence. She cracks one eye open, and notices Ferdinand and Hubert are sharing a knowing look. The corner of Hubert’s mouth cracks up in the faintest ghost of a wry grin. “Well…” he begins. “That’s certainly an interesting revelation, Bernadetta. Highly improper, to be thinking of your  _ betters _ in such a way.”

The way he says that, the way he calls himself and Ferdinand her  _ betters _ is enough to make her shudder. She wants, so badly, to be theirs. For a night? For longer? However much she can get, she craves it with every fiber of her being. “I’m sorry, Hubert,” she whimpers, weakly. 

“I am afraid that a simple apology will not be enough for such a grievous social misstep,” Hubert muses. “And while I have certainly been wronged, I think it is dear Ferdinand to whom you should apologize  _ most sincerely _ .”

And, just like that, it clicks. Bernadetta can hardly believe what’s happening, can’t believe her luck. Was it the lucky pajamas? The bear? Either, both, neither, it doesn’t matter. The important thing is, she’s just been dropped right into the middle of one of her fantasies. But she needs to make sure. As much as she’d like to believe it could be so easy, she doesn’t want to make an even worse misstep due to presumption. 

So, she meets Ferdinand’s eye, and she sees something there, something hungry, something that wasn’t in his gaze before. Bernadetta speaks slowly and deliberately, making sure she cannot be misunderstood.

“I am so, v-very sorry Ferdinand,” she says, her voice tremulous. “And I’ll do  _ anything _ to make it up to you.” In that moment, a certain understanding passes between them. Permission is granted. That hunger grows.

“If you speak truly,” Ferdinand murmurs, “I think you’d best apologize from your knees.”


	2. L'apéritif

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernadetta makes it abundantly clear how sorry she is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like this will be three chapters rather than two. I tend to bite off more than I can chew sometimes, I think.

Bernadetta blinks once, then twice, processing what Ferdinand has just asked of her. While she’s given him implicit permission to make a request like that, she still has to remind herself that yes, this is real, and yes, this is happening. She half expects someone to pop out of Ferdinand’s wardrobe and make fun of her for being taken in so easily. But no. She feels giddy as she comes to the conclusion, her stomach all tied up in knots, and it’s a high she doesn’t know if she’ll ever come down from.

Ferdinand wants her. He’s attracted to her. He wants her to serve him.

She’s happy to oblige.

As she slides off the bed, slowly, gradually, bit by bit, she’s distantly aware that she’s trembling, nervous. She’s never had sex with someone before, and although she’s read plenty of books that involve it, she’s concerned that her performance won’t be good enough. 

Almost as if he senses what she’s thinking, Ferdinand reaches forward and slides his fingers through her hair, making her shiver. Bernadetta can’t remember the last time someone’s touched her so tenderly, and that alone is enough to make her close her eyes and lean into his hand.

“Bernadetta, such a good girl. Are you going to be good for  _ me? _ ” Ferdinand purrs, and as the words leave his mouth, she shudders again. It sets her on fire when he calls her that; it’s a shot of bliss sent through her that lands squarely between her legs. The anxiety, amazingly, almost completely melts away. Only one thing matters now, one thing in the whole wide world, and that’s making Ferdinand praise her in such a way again. She nods, and based on his growing smile, he sees the effect the words have had on her, sees how much more relaxed she is.

“Yeah, I am, I promise,” she says, her voice much more steady and clear. She opens her eyes and reaches up for the tie to his sleep-pants. She doesn’t find that, though, her hands brush instead across his slowly hardening length. Bernadetta’s instinct is to pull away and squeal in embarrassment, but she doesn’t. Emboldened by Ferdinand’s words, she instead runs her hand along him, humming softly to herself in appreciation. It draws a little groan from Ferdinand, and so she does it again.

“He doesn’t like to be teased, Bernadetta,” Hubert says behind her, and it nearly makes her jump. She’s almost forgotten he’s standing there in the heat of the moment. “If you’re going to apologize to him, I should think you would be a little more eager. That is, if you’re sincere.”

Bernadetta nods. “I’m really, really sincere, I promise. Let me just…” she trails off, finally locating the tie she’d been searching for. She pulls on it hard enough to undo the knot there, and Ferdinand lifts his hips just enough for her to pull the garment down and drop it to the floor.

He’s wearing nothing beneath, and so when the trousers drop, he’s completely revealed to her. Ferdinand’s shaft is fully erect now, and she hears him suck in a breath as he’s exposed to the cool air of the bedroom. As she stares up at it, it twitches, and she swallows. This is for  _ her _ , she realizes. He’s this turned on because of  _ her. _

As she kneels, more than a little mesmerized and intimidated, she hears Hubert sigh, exasperated, before going down to one knee beside her. “Are you just going to stare?” he inquires rhetorically, reaching down and taking one of her hands in his. “I suppose I shall have to show you what to do.”

He places the hand, her right, in his own, so that her knuckles are lying in his palm. Hubert lifts their hands together, guiding hers up with his, and gently lays her palm against Ferdinand’s cock. He closes her fingers around it, then moves his own hand away. “Start by stroking just a few times, to ensure he’s completely ready for you,” Hubert orders, and Bernadetta does, marvelling at how it feels to hold him. It’s exciting, certainly, and she pumps up and down a couple of times, without force. She feels Ferdinand’s hand tighten in her hair, and he hums, looking down at her fondly. 

“Good. Perhaps there’s hope for you yet. Now once you’re certain he’s prepared, lean forward,” Hubert begins, sliding his hand into Bernadetta’s hair and pushing her toward Ferdinand. She gasps in surprise, but doesn’t resist. It feels arousing in a way that she can’t really put her finger on, as Hubert guides her. “Now, drag your tongue along him, from base to tip.”

After hesitating for just a moment, she obeys again, opening her mouth and doing exactly that. He tastes and feels...odd, not exactly how she thought he would, and she’s surprised at the little bead of moisture already on the head. She licks it eagerly though, and repeats the motion, base to tip. Each time she does, he makes another soft, subtle little noise, or mutters something she can’t quite hear, and that turns her on more than anything. She loves it, loves feeling like she can do that to him. Hubert lets go of her head. “Are you confident that you can take care of him properly?” he asks. “Do show him  _ exactly _ how apologetic you are.”

Bernadetta nods, but the gesture is more certain than she feels.  _ Can _ she do what she wants to? Does she have the ability?  _ Only one way to find out _ , she muses to herself, before putting her hands on either side of Ferdinand, bracing herself on the bed, and taking his head between her lips. 

The groan that issues forth from the man above her is worth every bit of the anxiety and fear she’s felt this evening. It’s a low, needy kind of groan, and he’s groaning  _ her _ name, and it’s the best feeling in the world. 

“Oh, Bernadetta,” he says, and she’s only heard that sort of reverence coming from the mouths of the most devout followers of the Church. It drives her on, and with renewed vigor and a deep breath through her nose, she closes her eyes, plunges downward, and takes him all the way to his base.

His fingers tighten in her hair again, harder this time, and his moan turns almost strangled; it’s as if he’s not used to having this done to him, and she considers that maybe he really  _ isn’t _ . Hubert doesn’t seem like the type to put himself in such a position very often, at the very least. Pride swells in her chest, pride that makes it a little easier to ignore the fact that he’s hitting the back of her throat and she’s fighting the urge to gag. After a moment, she withdraws from him and looks up, breathing hard.

Ferdinand looks almost dazed, of all things, and he’s stroking her hair absently as he takes a deep breath of his own. Behind her, Hubert hums aloud, as though he’s just seen something profoundly interesting. Bernadetta breaks the silence, as soon as she’s able, and coughs once before speaking. “I-I’m  _ very _ sorry about spying on you the other night. It won’t happen again, I promise. Is my apology good, so far?”

When he replies, it’s light and lilting, as though he’s pleasantly dazed. “Yes, I think it’s going quite well thus far. I can definitely tell you mean it, and I definitely know you’re a  _ very _ good girl,” he says, and oh, there are those words again. 

She tries to ignore her own arousal, doing her very best to focus on the person in front of her, but it’s incredibly difficult, and one of her hands slips downward, off the bed and to her lap. Bernadetta begins to rub herself, slowly, subtly, through her own pajamas, but Hubert makes a displeased sound from behind her. He snaps his arm out, grabbing her wrist and pulling it behind her.

“Now, Bernadetta, Ferdinand  _ just _ finished praising you. You should know better. This isn’t about you, this is about  _ him _ , and you will give him your full, undivided attention,” he says, chastising her the same way he would talk to a misbehaving pet. “Give me your other hand.” 

As she does so, she feels him press her wrists together tight and another length of soft cord binds them for the second time this evening. Bernadetta huffs in frustration, but Hubert leans in behind her, his lips inches away from her ear. 

“Don’t be childish. If you can demonstrate your dedication, perhaps we shall see about satiating your desires afterward,” Hubert adds, voice low, his breath hot against the side of her face and neck. “Perhaps.”

She whimpers softly, nodding. Bernadetta won’t admit it to Hubert, but being tied in such a way does nothing to make her  _ less _ aroused. It makes the problem significantly worse, in fact, but she knows the only way to find relief is to, well… take care of the problem in front of her, so to speak.

Looking up at Ferdinand again, she meets his eyes and drags her tongue along his length again, bottom to top, before taking him in her mouth. She has to look down due to his position above her, but in the moments their eyes meet, she’s rewarded with a look of pure, unrelenting adoration. This time, she doesn’t go all the way down, at least not immediately. He seemed to have enjoyed it last time, but she knows it’s not going to be possible to keep doing it over and over.

Instead, Bernadetta swirls her tongue around the head, moaning quietly, letting her mouth tremble and vibrate around him. Her eyes go wide in surprise and she lets out a choked grunt as Ferdinand gasps and bucks his hips up into her mouth. It’s shocking, but not entirely unwelcome; not that she could really do much about it with her hands tied up and his hand on her head. 

Once she recovers, Bernadetta pulls off him, up to the head, then bobs back down, trying to find a rhythm to move to. Ideally, she’d try to use one of her hands on him as well, but as they’re otherwise occupied, she does the best she can with her mouth alone. Any time she has to come up for air, she makes sure to gaze up at him again. After all, she knows  _ she  _ would like that, were their situations reversed.

Ferdinand rapidly grows flush, his breath short and catching every time she goes down as far as she can. He’s squirming, thrusting up, holding her head tight, and she’s loving it almost enough to ignore how much she’s straining against the front of her sleep-pants. “Oh, Bernadetta,” he moans, stroking her hair and speaking quickly. “Oh, you’re so beautiful, and so very good, and if you keep doing that, I’m not going to be able to hold back much longer.”

Bernadetta supposes she could pull away when he says that; she’s certain that Hubert would let her use her hands to finish him off if she wished. She doesn’t want to, though. She’s loving every moment of watching Ferdinand come apart above her, and she feels confident and competent and  _ sexy _ . So instead, she takes him deep again and continues, redoubling her efforts. Bernadetta keeps her lips tight around him, moves quickly, takes him as deep as she can, and although she feels herself getting more than a little bit lightheaded, it’s worth it to hear his fevered little whines beginning to reach a crescendo.

She feels him twitch between her lips, he moans her name once more, and that’s it. His hand falls away from her head and drops to the bed, where he seems to need it to keep himself steady and upright. It’s replaced, though, with Hubert’s, and he presses her forward. He’s not rough, but he’s firm, and she has no choice but to stay where she is; not that she’s particularly bothered. 

His taste floods her mouth, bitter and warm, and she waits, swirls her tongue around him, trying to work him through his climax as best she can, despite the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Bernadetta also tries not to let anything spill out of her mouth and onto his bed, and she’s  _ mostly _ successful at that. 

She’s surprised, though, when Hubert combs his fingers through her hair in much the same way that Ferdinand did. It feels nice, and it’s oddly  _ tender _ coming from him. “You did very well Bernadetta, I’m quite pleased with your performance,” Hubert purrs softly. “I appreciate your willingness to devote yourself wholly to Ferdinand’s pleasure.”

As she feels Ferdinand relax, Hubert’s hand falls away as well, and she pulls back and off of him. Bernadetta swallows, then sucks in as much wonderful, lovely, glorious air as she can. She remains still for a moment, just working to catch her breath, focusing her gaze on the ground in front of her as she gasps and tries to refill her aching lungs.

Once she feels like she’s not going to pass out, she looks to Ferdinand, noting his lazy, satisfied smile. “I appreciate and accept your apology, Bernadetta,” he says. “But since apologies are the topic at hand, and you seem like you might yet be unsatisfied, I think Hubert still owes _ you _ one for manhandling you into my bedroom. Would you agree?”

Bernadetta feels as though she’s just been struck by lightning. Does Ferdinand mean what she thinks he means? Her mind jumps back to what she saw in the sauna, the way Hubert bent Ferdinand over forward and…

“I...I think I might agree,” Bernadetta says slowly, then hastily adds, “If that’s okay!”

There’s a deep, dark chuckle from behind her, one that brings to mind a predator that’s just cornered its prey and is presently deciding how to eat it. “Given your exceptional performance, I could be persuaded to oblige you,” Hubert growls against the back of her neck as he places his hands on her hips. “Though I suspect the aforementioned manhandling was not as unpleasant for you as our dear Ferdinand might believe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the chapter title: An "apéritif" is a drink, usually a dry one, served before the main meal to whet one's appetite.


	3. Entre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernadetta gets what's coming to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here we go, FINALLY the last chapter. Sorry to make y'all wait!

Bernadetta trembles. She tries really hard not to, but it seems that facing the prospect of two beautiful men ravishing her isn’t something she can do calmly. It doesn’t help, of course, when Hubert plants one firm, strong kiss on the back of her neck, one that feels oddly possessive. She knows she looks skittish, but she also knows that she’s safe, and that’s the only reason she hasn’t bolted for the door.

What an odd feeling, she considers. Safety. It’s rare that she feels so comfortable with anyone, or anywhere outside her bedroom, but despite the rough start, both men have made it quite clear that they mean her no harm. They  _ could _ harm her. She gave them the power. She let her guard down, and they’d have every reason to do so. And yet, strangely, wonderfully, they haven’t.

As Hubert leans in from behind, pressing more of those delightfully claim-staking kisses to her neck, Ferdinand leans forward and cups her cheek in one strong, callused, but gentle hand. His eyes are so kind, and Bernadetta feels herself begin to get lost in them, but Hubert’s motions keep her grounded.

“Bernadetta,” Ferdinand purrs, stroking her cheek with his thumb, “I mean no offense by the question, none at all, but you haven’t had sex before tonight, have you?” She considers lying, just for the barest, briefest second, but she thinks better of it. They’ve been honest with her, and they deserve honesty back.

The young woman shakes her head, quickly, but subtly, ashamed to admit it. “No, Ferdinand, I haven’t,” she mumbles, cut off by an involuntary little cry when Hubert nips at her neck, seemingly impatient. “But! But I’ve read books, and I’ve uh...experimented? By myself. I can handle it, I promise!” she insists, not wanting them to think her ignorant, or a burden.

Ferdinand smiles down, softly, and it feels like the sun is shining for Bernadetta, and her  _ alone _ . How could she have ever thought this man would hurt her? “Hubert, would you pick her up and hand her to me please?” he requests politely, seemingly recovered from his own prior exertion.

Before Bernadetta can protest, though she does still yelp in surprise, Hubert stands, lifting Bernadetta up with him as he goes. He doesn’t even grunt at the effort, and Bernadetta bites her lip as she’s forced to consider, yet again, that maybe she does actually kind of like being manhandled.

  
  


He places her, rather gently, atop Ferdinand, who has laid down on his back. Before Hubert’s hands leave her body though, he slides them down to her waist, delicately grasps the hem of her shirt, and pulls it off over her head. As much as she feels the urge to resist, she shoves it down. Bernie is determined to try, for once, not to be self conscious about the way she looks. These two know her, have known her for years, and if she’d ever be okay with being bare before someone, it would be them.

Bernadetta’s breath catches as she looks down at Ferdinand, with his face slightly flush, his hair fanned out beneath him so prettily, and his strong, chiseled torso on full display. He’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. 

The moment she makes contact with him, he pulls her into his arms and wastes no time before kissing her fully, passionately, on the lips. If he cares at all that minutes ago, her lips were wrapped around his shaft, he doesn’t show it on his face, nor in the enthusiasm with which he kisses her. 

As she returns his affections and tries to do so tenfold, to show him exactly how grateful she is to be allowed this, she feels Hubert behind her, his hands on her once more. They trail up her thighs, his touch feather-light, as though he’s afraid he’ll break her, and they come to rest at the waistband of her pants. They’re the last article of clothing on her body, and he hesitates for a moment with his thumbs hooked under the waist, as though asking for permission one more time. 

It’s hard, it’s  _ so _ hard to allow him that. But it’s Hubert, and his touch is so gentle despite its firmness. He moves carefully, deliberately, clearly intending every action he takes, but also considering her needs and comfort. It all comes through in the way he touches her, and she assents to his unasked question by wiggling her hips to help him tug away her last layer of defense. She lifts her knees from the bed one at a time as the clothing slides down and away, and it’s cast away without a second thought.

All of this, this entire battle against her own self-consciousness and fear, happens while Ferdinand is still kissing her hard enough to make her dizzy.

She leans into it, bracing herself against the bed with her forearms, and tries very, very hard not to think about the fact that her own length is pressing against Ferdinand’s lower stomach. She restrains her urge to buck her hips and grind against him, but she can feel herself twitching in anticipation. She suspects he can feel it too.

Ferdinand chuckles, deep and smooth, into her mouth before pulling away and opening his eyes. “Bernadetta, you’re pretty eager, aren’t you?” he asks, sliding a hand down between them and wrapping it around her delicately. She whines softly as he does, and he laughs again. “I suppose it was a little mean of us to make you wait. You don’t have to hold back now, though, okay?”

“O-okay,” she nearly whispers, nodding once. “You’re sure?” she confirms, as Ferdinand reaches his other hand up to brush a few stray locks of purple hair out of her face, tucking them behind her ear.

“Yes, Bernadetta, I’m sure. You’re lovely, and I want to see exactly what you feel. You’ve ever been one to wear your heart on your sleeve, so to speak.” She flushes again at that, and whimpers as he lazily works his hand up and down her prick while moving the other to rest on her back. “Hubert, I think she’s about ready to explode. Would you be so kind?” he asks, tracing his fingertips up and down her spine in a way that makes her shiver.

“Gladly,” comes Hubert’s smooth, controlled drawl from behind her, and she squeezes her eyes shut. Her hands find their way to Ferdinand’s shoulders and she grips them tight. She knows what comes next, she’s read the books. She wants it,  _ Goddess _ , she wants it, but she’s still terrified, because despite all her experimentation, she’s never tried anything quite Hubert’s size before. Bernadetta braces herself, her whole body going tense, her face going red, and heat spreading all the way up to the tips of her ears.

When she feels it, she gasps, pitching forward and pressing her forehead to Ferdinand’s for comfort. It feels so  _ big _ , she doesn’t know how on earth she’s even accommodating him, but she feels like she’s ready to burst. “I-is that it? Did you do it? Did you p-put it in?” she squeaks, afraid to even open her eyes. It feels like the temperature in the room has risen tenfold, and she feels herself begin to sweat.

There’s a moment of silence. The hand on her back has flattened, holding her close and secure, and she feels one of Hubert’s on her hip.

Hubert sighs, his voice concerned. “No, Bernadetta, that was one finger, covered in lubricant.” Bernadetta groans, slumping against Ferdinand before a twitch of Hubert’s finger makes her tense again. 

“I’m so sorry, both of you, I’ve never done this before and I’m really,  _ really _ nervous and I just want to get it right, and not wimp out, and...and…” she struggles to find the right words to convey her emotions, but Ferdinand interrupts her with a single little peck on the lips.

“Bernie, you’re here with two people who love you very much, and we don’t want you to do anything you’re not ready for. It’s okay if you want to stop here, there are other ways we can all have a  _ very _ nice evening,” Ferdinand mutters, stroking her back again, his voice soothing. 

Hubert slowly withdraws the digit from inside Bernadetta, and she gasps at its sudden absence; at how strangely  _ empty _ she feels now. “I must concur, Bernadetta,” he says, and his tone, much like it had been when he was praising her earlier, is softer than she ever thought he could be. “The last thing you desire is for such an experience to be confusing or frightening, and if you wish to stop, that is your right. Why, Ferdinand’s first time, he cried out so loudly that it woke up Caspar in the dormitory next door, and-”

“Hubert!” Ferdinand interjects sharply, cutting him off. “I don’t think she really needs to know that, do you?” Bernadetta can see him blushing beneath her. Hubert chuckles, and she, to her own surprise, does as well. The embarrassment on Ferdinand’s face quickly gives way to the smallest of grins as his lovers laugh, and he sighs, winking up at her.

“Actually, Ferdinand,” Hubert begins, “I think it eased poor Bernadetta’s nerves far better than your assurances did. You should be thanking me.”

Ferdinand groans and rolls his eyes, and Bernadetta gets the impression that this is a relatively frequent sort of interaction between these two. She enjoys it for a moment, basking in the comfortable love the two obviously share. Her mind slips back to what Ferdinand had said a moment ago.

_...two people who love you very much. _ That was what Ferdinand had claimed, and her mind reeled at the possibility. Does he mean that they love her as a dear friend? In much the same way that Edelgard or Dorothea would say they love her? Or is it...more? Could she hope, in a million, billion years, for them to include her? It’s nearly enough to make her cry, but before she can reflect on the idea  _ too _ much, her attention is dragged back to the present by Ferdinand’s hand on her cheek.

“...you okay?” he asks, his voice tinged with concern. Bernadetta blinks a few times, focusing on him. “I thought we lost you for a second there, you looked like you were thinking about something very hard.”

“You should give it a try, Ferdinand,” Hubert quips, and Ferdinand scowls.

“No! I mean, yes! I’m fine, I promise. But I...um, I want this. I want to keep trying. I know I can handle it!” she says, and she puts as much determination into her small, trembling voice as she possibly can.

Ferdinand nods, giving her another peck, this time on the tip of her nose. “Good. I’ll be here the whole time,” he assures her, and she trusts him completely. And not just because he’s under her, and probably couldn’t get away even if he tries.

“Very well, Bernadetta. It isn’t going to be a finger this time, though,” confirms Hubert. “You may tell me to stop, if you change your mind.”

She nods, though she knows he’s probably not looking at her head, and clings to Ferdinand again. Bernadetta breathes, tries her hardest to relax, and attempts to avoid tensing like she had before. She’s read that it’s much easier to do things like this if a person doesn’t tense, and it seems like good enough advice.

Bernadetta hears Hubert pick up something off the desk near him, most likely the bottle of lubricant, and closes her eyes.  _ You can do this Bernie, you could handle everything up to now, you can do this too _ , she tells herself.

There’s silence that quickly becomes deafening, and she imagines that this is what it must feel like to be on the headsman’s chopping block, waiting for the axe to fall. She closes her eyes, but it doesn’t last long, because Ferdinand is sliding one, gentle finger-tip along her shaft, which draws a muffled whimper from her lips, and his other hand is on her cheek, and he says, low, easy, and authoritative all the same, “Bernadetta, I want you to look at me.”

She can’t rightly say no to that. She would give Ferdinand the world right now, if he asked.

Bernadetta opens her eyes and meets Ferdinand’s, and her heart skips a beat as she sees the plain, unhidden adoration in them. Finally, without even noticing she’s doing it, Bernadetta relaxes. Her partners feel it, and Ferdinand slides his hand from her cheek to the back of her head, pulling her down and kissing her, a wonderful reward.

As he does, she feels something, something larger than before, pressing against her from behind. She knows it’s Hubert, and she knows what’s coming, but just as she’s preparing to feel well and truly anxious about it, Ferdinand presses his tongue into her mouth, and she moans for him, slow and sonorous. Bernadetta feels the tension melt away once more.

Hubert takes advantage of that dissipation of tension and presses forward. He’s well lubricated, and so is she, but despite that, she cries out at the sudden overwhelming pressure that she feels. Her limbs go wobbly, and while her knees stay planted where they are, her torso drops unceremoniously down onto Ferdinand’s. Their mouths are pulled apart by the sudden movement, and Bernadetta lets out a small, sharp cry as Hubert continues. He’s moving so slow, so agonizingly slow, and she’s thankful for that, because she doesn’t know if she’d be able to handle him at  _ all _ otherwise.

Ferdinand wastes no time in pulling his hand from between her legs and wrapping it around her back, leaving the other in her hair, and holding her close. They’re chest-to-chest, now, and Ferdinand, a saint as far as Bernadetta is concerned, is threading his fingers through her hair gently while rubbing her back. Her forehead rests on the bed, and his mouth is just beside her ear, and he’s speaking to her the whole time.

“You’re doing wonderfully,” comes Ferdinand’s dulcet reassurance, “you’re doing so well, and I’m proud of you, and I’m so glad you’re here with us tonight.” Bernadetta clings to every word, only able to give Ferdinand a shattered little whine in response. It doesn’t seem to bother him, though, because he holds her just as close as before. “Thank you, Bernadetta, for letting us share this with you.”

It takes several more seconds, but she feels Hubert’s hips press against her and hears him groan from above and behind, and she exhales slowly. Hubert doesn’t move again, thankfully, he remains where he is and waits for Bernadetta to compose herself.

Her whole body feels like it’s boiling, burning hot, and she considers seriously that she’ll very likely fall apart in a moment or two. She saw Hubert’s cock from a bit of a distance while she spied on the two men in the sauna, and it looked about average sized, but within her, it feels about like the biggest thing she could ever imagine. And she’s imagined some fairly impressive things in her time.

But it feels  _ lovely _ . She feels so full, so proud of herself for being able to handle him in his entirety, and knowing that he  _ wants _ her like he does is intoxicating. She doesn’t speak until she’s shifted her arms down and under Ferdinand’s neck, holding him tight in a hug over his shoulders. He lifts his head to make it easier on her, and Hubert places a hand on her lower back, tapping once, then twice with a finger. “Are you ready, Bernadetta?” he asks, still sounding concerned.

She nods again, then realizes he probably can’t see that, so she gives him her strongest, most brazen, “I think so,” speaking up to overcome the muffling effect of talking directly into the bed. Ferdinand laughs lightly.

“I think he’d like a little more than that, Bernie,” Ferdinand teases, and she groans in exasperation. At least her inexperience and unpreparedness doesn’t have them too worried to make fun of her a little.

“Yes, Hubert,” she whines, “I’m ready,  _ please _ .”

“Your wish is my command, dear Bernadetta,” Hubert says, and withdraws just as slowly as he had entered her. The sensation makes her gasp, and she tightens her arms around Ferdinand, who has begun to press soft, fluttering kisses to her cheek and jawline, anywhere he can reach. The hand on her head stays there, but she feels the other one slowly, slyly snaking its way between them again.

Hubert pulls back so far that, eventually, only his very tip is still inside her, and Bernadetta shudders again, not daring to move too far, or too fast, not wanting to disrupt his positioning. She hears the shifting of that little bottle on the desk and sighs in relief that Hubert is using the lubricant again. 

As if to occupy her attention while Hubert is mostly withdrawn and motionless, Ferdinand palms Bernadetta’s shaft in one hand stroking slowly and gently, but in a distinct and definite rhythm, and she groans against his neck. “Ferdinand, I...don’t know how much of that I’m going to be able to take,” she protests lightly, but he only rumbles a laugh against her cheek.

“Don’t worry, I’m not shy, you don’t have to hold back on my account. Whenever you’re ready…” he trails off, lightly brushing the head with one finger and making Bernadetta yelp. “Just let go.” She makes a noise that she hopes sounds vaguely affirmative, too distracted by the mixed sensations on her body to string a totally coherent sentence together. 

Hubert thrusts into her again, just a little faster this time, and although her breath catches and she cries out, she feels as though she handles it a little bit better. To her surprise, she finds herself pressing her hips back to meet him, wanting to contribute what little she can to his efforts. It surprises Hubert too, by the sound of his gasp as she moves.

Ferdinand’s breath is hot against her, and Hubert holds her hips tight, and despite feeling as though she might pop at any second, she can’t think of a time in recent memory that she felt so absolutely  _ blissful _ . Her heart is beating fast, her face is hot, she has goosebumps; all hallmarks of a mounting anxiety attack, but the context just feels so completely different and wonderful, and she wouldn’t trade it for the world.

She grits her teeth as Hubert withdraws once more, and there’s less of a gap, this time, between his outward pull, and his inward thrust. In fact, he presses into her a little harder, and a little  _ faster _ , and it shoves her hips forward, making  _ her _ thrust into Ferdinand’s hand with the motion. She gasps at the pleasure of it, and before she realizes there’s been a change, Hubert’s  _ fucking _ her. 

Bernadetta repeats it in her head. Hubert’s fucking her. Ferdinand is pleasuring her from below, while Hubert takes her from behind, and if not for the occasional twinge of pain as her body adjusts to Hubert’s motion, she would swear she’s dreaming.

But it’s certainly not a dream.

The motions and ministrations of her partners are rapidly becoming too much to bear, with Ferdinand keeping pace with Hubert, and Hubert, by the sound and feel of it, approaching a climax of his own. She knows Ferdinand told her not to hold back, and while the Goddess knows she wants to reach that peak herself, she also wants to draw this out; wants it to last as long as possible. She doesn’t know if it’ll ever happen again, and she wants to squeeze every drop of euphoria that she can out of the night.

So even as she comes apart, pressed between two of the most beautiful people she’s ever seen, even as she shakes and groans and thrusts and pants, and gives herself over more and more to the sensations rushing through her, she tries so very hard to hold back. She meets with mixed results. 

It takes but a few minutes more of Hubert’s expertly timed thrusts before he’s digging his nails into her hips and groaning, seemingly doing his very best to hold back, to keep going, to give Bernadetta what she wants. Another strangled moan escapes his lips and Bernie feels so lucky that she gets to hear Hubert lose control in such a way. And so, she speaks.

“Hubert, please. I want you. Please, please don’t hold back, I  _ need _ you,” she whines as he fucks her into the mattress, and as though she’d spoken the words to a spell, he thrusts once more, deep into her. His hips are  _ locked _ to hers, and she knows there’s no going back now, but of course, she would never want to. Hubert holds her tight, and she feels him pulse inside of her, a truly strange and unique sensation, as he comes. His climax seems to last twice as long as any she’s seen, and Ferdinand doesn’t let up on  _ her _ through the entire ordeal.

As Hubert comes, Ferdinand moves his hand just  _ that _ much faster, turns it  _ just so _ , strokes her in  _ just _ the right way, and with a cry and a tremble that wracks her entire body, she comes in his hand. It feels  _ lovely _ , easily the most intense orgasm she’s ever had, and he works her through it expertly. As her muscles spasm, she hears Hubert groan behind her and feels him tighten his grip on her hips just a bit tighter, but she’s beyond caring.

She bucks forward into Ferdinand’s palm, whimpering and moaning the entire way, and Ferdinand, ever kind, ever gentle, works her through it with a deft hand and a half dozen praises whispered feather-light in her ear. Her head swims, she feels dizzy, and far too heavy, and far too light, all at once. Bernadetta’s legs go weak, and she collapses the rest of the way onto her lover below her, utterly spent.

Hubert gasps as she does, and she half-mumbles an apology for the suddenness of it, but she gets the impression that it’s not truly needed as he steps back and away. Ferdinand wraps his arms around her, stroking her back and hair, and she can almost make out what he’s saying through the exhausted haze that has settled around her mind.

“Bernadetta, you may wish to make use of this,” Hubert says, his use of her name cutting through her exhaustion. It’s not quite enough, though, and all he gets for his trouble is a halfhearted grumble about her being unable to move. Ferdinand laughs and releases her, and Bernadetta, reluctantly, rolls off of him to face the ceiling. 

She looks up and sees that Hubert is proffering what appears to be a damp cloth. When she makes no move to take it, he clicks his tongue in disapproval, but steps forward to wipe off the slick she’s left on Ferdinand’s lower stomach anyways. Bernadetta reddens, slightly, but Ferdinand doesn’t seem to mind. She thinks it surely doesn’t hurt that Hubert leans in and kisses his lover hungrily upon his lips, either.

Smiling, Bernadetta enjoys the sight before her, and waits a minute before speaking again. It’s sweet, she decides, even if Hubert still scares her a little, and Ferdinand is far too good for any of them.

When she does speak, though, it’s with a heavy heart, because she knows that as spent as they all are, there surely won’t be any more  _ activities _ planned. “Thank you, Hubert,” and her voice sounds low and tired, even to her. “That was...really good. Really,  _ really  _ good.”

The taller man shares a look with the one on the bed and smirks. “Really,  _ really  _ good, you say? High praise, miss Bernadetta, you’ll have to be careful or my ego might swell to match that of our dashing cavalier.”

Ferdinand snorts and swats at Hubert’s leg. He misses. Bernadetta continues, laughing nervously and sitting up. Her anxiety has begun to return just a bit, now that her mind is clear and reality is setting in.

“I...uh...suppose I’ll get going, then! Thank you both, for everything! It was a lot of fun and, uh, I definitely won’t tell anyone about the stuff I saw, I promise.” She looks between the two of them, and sees that they’re both watching her without speaking. It makes her a little self conscious, and she stands on shaking legs. Bernadetta makes it one step, perhaps one and a half if she’s being generous, before stumbling and tripping over her own feet.

Faster than she’d known a person could move, Hubert is there, catching her beneath her arms and hauling her back to her feet, this time completely supported. “Careful, Bernadetta. We wouldn’t want you to get  _ hurt _ , would we?” he says, in that same ominous tone that he’d used when he snatched her outside her bedroom. Ferdinand sits up to look at them both.

“While I respect your desire to go back to your own room,” he says, drumming his fingers on his leg contemplatively. “I think you should stay here tonight. My bed is certainly large enough, and though I  _ suppose  _ I could have Hubert carry you back-”

“I- I could do that?” Bernadetta interrupts, half-shouting, before forcing herself to calm down. “You wouldn’t mind, I mean, if I stayed? And s-shared the bed with you?”

Hubert lowers himself and scoops her up in one swift motion, into a bridal carry. He chuckles, low and dark and positively  _ evil. _

“No, Bernadetta, I’m afraid I must insist. You are, for the remainder of the evening, our prisoner,” he rumbles in a voice that would, in any other situation, be intimidating.

Ferdinand rolls his eyes. “Come on then, you’ll fit neatly in the middle I think.”

Hubert swiftly but carefully places her on the bed, blows out the candles and lamps illuminating the room, and joins her and Ferdinand as though there is no place in the world he would rather be. She just barely has time to slip her nightclothes back on. His eagerness to be with them is clear, Bernadetta notes, despite his reserved demeanor.

As she drifts off, pressed between Hubert and Ferdinand like the center of a sandwich, it occurs to Bernadetta that she never did get her dinner. She sighs, resolving to just eat a big breakfast in the morning, because while her stomach may be empty, her heart has never been more full.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. If you'd like to come discuss how many people can fit on a Garreg Mach Dorm Bed, find me on twitter [@spiderlilywrite](https://twitter.com/spiderlilywrite)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! If you'd like to come wish a little death on me, you can find me [@spiderlilywrite](https://twitter.com/spiderlilywrite) on twitter.


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